"The very essence of existence is frailty."
The old man sat calmly, leaning forward on his staff. His grey eyes were clear and his worn face showed no sign of being perturbed by the armed figures before him.
"Tell your master that his aim is impossible. Nothing can exist forever, and no man can live an hour more than is due him."
Standing ahead of the rest of the soldiers, a much younger man glared back. "I didn't ask for philosophy, old man. I was sent here for the elixir, and I will not return empty-handed!"
A heavy sigh was the only response.
Ripping a knife from its sheathe, the leader pressed it against the ancient throat, not quite breaking the skin.
"My patience grows thin, where is the elixir?"
"Son, the Elixir of Eternity is right there," he lifted a hand off his staff to gesture indifferently toward a table on the far side of the room. An earthenware jar rested upon it, sealed with wax.
"Take it if you wish, I've no use for it, but remember what I told you... existence is frailty, no passage of time will change that.
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